autohistoria mestiza

explicame porfa while I go write sad poetry

why are we in school? and play this game

I don’t understand this game.

8.28.12. life,bills,stupid,you,

1

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I remain who I am, multiple and one of the herd, yet not of it. I walk on the ground of my own being browned and hardened by the ages. I am fully formed carved by the hands of the ancients, drenched with the stench of today’s headlines. But my own hands whittle the final work- me.

Gloria Anzaldua

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